Issues of concern to people who live in the west: property rights, water rights, endangered species, livestock grazing, energy production, wilderness and western agriculture. Plus a few items on western history, western literature and the sport of rodeo... Frank DuBois served as the NM Secretary of Agriculture from 1988 to 2003. DuBois is a former legislative assistant to a U.S. Senator, a Deputy Assistant Secretary of Interior, and is the founder of the DuBois Rodeo Scholarship.

Sunday, December 23, 2018

The Well Cup

The Home of Lee and Mary Belle Rice

The Well Cup

Refreshing

By Stephen L. Wilmeth

It had been hanging there for more
years than anyone alive can remember. It was a cup hung on a little chain tied
to a mill frame over a hand-dug well. Water would be drawn from the well with a
bucket and then dipped with the cup. The water was cold and sweet even in the
heat of summer.

The cup was polished metal. It
wasn’t fancy. It was stout and well made with a handle where the chain was
attached. When it was used, it was wet and cold from dipping the water out of
the bucket. The cup and everything about it was refreshing not the least of
which is the memory.

The Home of Lee and Mary Belle (May) Rice

From elder family members to
visitors and guests, cousins, farmhands and strangers, it was shared without
question or qualification. Old men would drink that cold water before they went
into the house. Little kids would gather and clamor for their turn because of
the adventure of drinking at the well. Haying crews would drink their fill,
wash their faces until they were rosy red, and then comb their hair before they
filed into the screened porch area to sit in the shade for a few minutes before
they were called to dinner. Cowboys would roll a smoke and stand around and
talk after they hoisted the water and drank. The well was a meeting place, a
place to pause, and the cup made all who gathered there equal.

Because of its location, many
important events took place at the well cup. Babies were born and paraded by it
on their way to meet Lee and May for the first time. Young men passed by it on
their way to two wars and many conflicts. Hospital visits, marriage ceremonies,
funerals, birthday parties, graduations, elections, brandings, church services,
morning and evening chores, Sunday visits, ball games and other daily events
all started or ended by those passing the cup.

Few things in modern life make such
an impact across a swath of humanity. Old, rich, young, poor, important, male,
ordinary, and female, it was used by everybody. Nobody gave a second thought
about drinking from the community cup. It was part of life and it was all
things most important at the moment.

Refreshing

In addition to it being a great
equalizer, it became an object of agreement. Few who used it can recall
anything but pleasant experiences. It forever remained the same. Those boys
returning from the horrors of war stopped and drank in memory of a more
innocent life. At least one thing hadn’t changed in their ravaged being.

Old men and women, once boys and
girls, who drank from it as kids and later as sparking teenagers, recalled
events and experiences beginning and ending at that cup. They smiled at the
memory.

Today, of course, it wouldn’t be
allowed. Mothers raised on Oprah and Sesame Street would want paper cups. Children mustn’t be exposed to germs and who
knows what else! Hand cleaner and paper towels would be required. If
overseen by the government, there would be a warning label etched into it, and
this has all had repercussions.

Life as it once existed, especially
rural life, has changed dramatically. Along with that, the well cup
disappeared. Nobody can remember when or where it went.

What we need in this confusing new
world of urban-dominated pursuits and logic is a proxy to the well cup. It
would have to be the same great equalizer and object of mutual agreement. It
would have to be at a place of common ground and preferred gathering. People
would have to communicate and be expected to police their own actions. It would
be an object of the most basic need. It would also be something everybody
considered his or her own responsibility to perpetuate.

All Americans as well as their historical
industries need to find that proxy to the well cup. If it can’t be found, the
chasm between rural and urban beliefs and expectations will only widen. Our
customs and culture will further diminish. What is important is to remember the
promise of its existence. Its use was the most pleasant common experience, refreshing,
and honest.

Those of you who can relate to the
memory of a well cup, savor it. To those who can’t, seek someone who can tell
you about times of more simplicity when hard work and respect displaced
division and rancor. People conversed which encouraged agreement. At least they
did for the precious few minutes they paused by the well!

Indeed, we need that well cup.

Stephen
L. Wilmeth is a rancher from southern New Mexico. “Several readers of Ma’ Rice’s letter of last week asked
about The Well Cup which appeared in the
summer edition of Range Magazine in 2011. Hereinabove is the edited version of
that article centered around the entrance to Ma’s house under the turnoff to
Sacaton Mesa on the west side of the Gila River in Grant County. My great
grandmother’s house was a place of wonder. From catching a trout by hand in her
system of canales constructed to water her yard, to scaring ourselves in
venturing to look at the grizzly rug on her back porch after dark, to the
gardens, barn, orchards, granary, her organ, the colorful little bubblers on
her Christmas trees, and the smell of her kitchen, it was truly special. It was
a cornerstone of life, and, in this Christmas season, it remains a most special
place in my heart. The well cup, which hung from the hand dug well near her
front screened porch entrance was a gift to us then and can serve as a reminder
of our own rebirth this week as we celebrate our Saviour’s birth. Merry
Christmas. May God bless you, your families, our President and leadership, and
our United States of America.

Everyone should be subscribing to Range magazine. There is no other publication like it. This is from their About section

What is RANGE?

RANGE
magazine is an award-winning publication devoted to the issues that
threaten the West, its people, lifestyles, lands and wildlife. Known for
its powerful photos and straight talk, RANGE exposes a land and
lifestyle in crisis and shows how daily challenges are being met with
grit, determination and humor. No stranger to controversy, RANGE is the
leading forum for divergent viewpoints in the search for solutions that
will halt the depletion of a national resource, the American cowboy.

Why RANGE?

Because
there are people who care. RANGE has a simple and honest purpose: to
chronicle the real, working people of the American West, and to provide
an open forum to discuss the threats and assaults on the most unique of
American lifestyles.

We Feature...

The people, the land, and the western way of life, including cowboys, sheepherders, environmentalists, scientists and wildlife.

We Offer Opinions From...

Scientists,
scholars, environmentalists, federal agency employees and the people
who earn a living from the land. Our readers find that RANGE offers
entertainment, education, inspiration and an occasional jaw-slackening
surprise.

Go here to subscribe. You will be well rewarded for your twenty bucks.

As usual, Wilmeth has brought back memories of my own. In this case it is of the North Place on the DuBois Ranch. The cup hung on the windmill, and was filled by holding it at the end of a pipe that ran to the storage tank. We filled our water bags there too. I remember as a youngster, still not tall enough to reach the end of the pipe, of being invited to take a short dip in the tank. And short it was. I couldn't believe how cold that water was. I didn't need any help getting out either.

Yes, Range Magazine is the word. I give Range subscriptions to those who seem to speak Swahili amongst us so they might be healed. Some are seemingly incarcerated in the odd unknown lands of newyawk and massaholechuttets. If only missionaries were that brave to venture forth....